


My Soul Was a Stagnant Tide

by nerdsarehot75



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4045576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdsarehot75/pseuds/nerdsarehot75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU Mattex fic<br/>Matt moves to a small costal town after a back injury ends his football career. There he is inexplicably drawn to the painter Alex. From then on, everything goes downhill. </p>
<p>Title taken from Eulalie by Edgar Allan Poe</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Problem With Water

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first rpf and I hope that it's gone well. I would like to point out i do not know any of the people used in this story and it's done completely for fun and should not be take seriously. If this offends you, you should probably stop reading now.

Alex was sat on a rough, worn blanket, the wind rifling through her blonde curls. She could feel the grains of sand against the skin of her feet and she could hear her daughter’s happy giggles from beside her. She looked out at the crashing waves and wondered if there was any new way to paint this view. She thought not, but still knew she’d be there tomorrow with her easel and paints instead of cooped up inside. 

The ebb and flow of the water was calming and soothed the burning she felt whenever she thought of her daughter’s conception. It was happening far too often these days for reasons she could not understand. Her daughter was a healthy four year old with wonderful prospects for the future. She was clever and kind, and would grow up to be so beautiful, not that it should matter for her prospects, but she couldn’t deny that it did. 

She was proud of the life she’d built for herself in this small town. She loved her home and her job, she had just enough friends to be comfortable and, most importantly, her daughter was happy. She had no reason to worry, and yet she felt as if something big was coming, something life changing. She thought maybe it was just the weather, the pressure indicating a storm was coming but when she talked to other people she was the only one who felt. She really did not need to feel crazy at the moment. 

She looked behind her at the green hills and noticed a solitary figure standing by the window in the only house up that way. She’d heard from local gossip that a young man had purchased it and that he was very surly during the whole process. He didn’t sound very pleasant from what she’d heard. And apparently he was very clumsy, all arms and legs. She thought that might be endearing with the right attitude, which he unfortunately didn’t seem to possess. No one had seen him since he moved into the house, but by all accounts his sister was a lovely girl. Alex couldn’t help wonder if she’d ever see his face. She thought probably not, not in her line of work. 

She turned back around and laughed at her daughter’s attempt at creating a large sandcastle. The frustrated look on the small girls face was adorable to her mother. After a few failed attempts the small girl held out the bucket to her mother who gently took it and began helping, following her daughter’s instructions. She laughed in happiness at the new look of delight on the girl’s face, enjoying the day she could spend with her little girl. A feeling of contentment chased away the feeling of anticipation in the pit of her stomach as she hugged her daughter close to her. 

 

_______________^_______________

 

Across the village was another story. Matt shoved a box away from the bed as he struggled out from under the sheets. The air was almost humid and he felt stifled as he noticed the sheen of sweat on his skin. He kicked the offending box in frustration followed by loud swearing and general hopping, where he then fell over said box. His body hit the floor and he groaned, trying to make his arms and legs work in a safe manner. As he was trying to leave the room he fell over another box, yelping as he thumped to the ground again.

Why had Laura convinced him to move to this bloody little town? He didn’t even like the beach. And there was no where he could possibly play football, not that he was meant to but… Well, he couldn’t complain to her about that. She’d just try to be sensible and that’s not what he wanted. Of course, that brings him back to the reason he was here. 

He put the kettle on once he reached the kitchen. The cold tiles on the floor reminded him of the newness of the house and the hopelessness of his situation. It reminded him of how bloody cold-hearted that doctor was, how five little words could ruin his life in one sweeping blow. If he couldn’t play football, what could he do? Nothing, he bloody well couldn’t do anything. And now he was in some poxy little town with no chance of anything changing for the better. All he could do was try to avoid the press Or at least, that’s what Laura had convinced him was a good idea. He found it unlikely anyone would dare look for him here, not the famous footballer Matt Smith. 

The sound of the kettle interrupted his thoughts. He jumped in surprised and only barley managed to keep his mug from smashing on the floor. He moved to the living room to drink his tea, although it was barely relaxing when he could only witness all the unpacking he was required to do later, with the boxes surrounding him on all sides. He was sure the view of the beach was lovely from the window, if he only got up to look, but he wasn’t in the mood for lovely. He just wanted to wallow in his sadness for awhile. He believed he had every right to. 

Once his mug was empty he extracted himself from the couch and wandered back into the kitchen to look through his empty fridge. He sighed in frustration at the bare shelves and ambled back into the living room. He ran his hands through his hair as he surveyed the wreckage that was his life. Everything packed up into boxes and bags. Was this what his life had come to? In a small cottage in a small town by the seaside with no chance of living his dream?

He attacked the boxes with a vengeance, determined to get all the boxes unpacked, no longer able to feel in a state of flux without tearing down the walls. It was as if the destruction of the cardboard helped tame the destructive feelings in his chest. If only he could rid himself of all of them but there weren’t enough cardboard boxes in the world for that. 

He took a break, sweating slightly from the exertion and finally looked out at the view he had paid far too much money for. He could see the beach and the waves crashing on the shore. There were a few people down on the beach, with children running and playing. Some people had bravely ventured into the water. He looked down from his high house at this view of community and happiness and scowled at its’ audacity to be beautiful in his presence. 

He knew if he opened the window he’d probably be able to hear the laughter from the kids and possibly the mumble of conversation from the adults. Nothing substantial but there was little to stop the sound from reaching him. However, he found this idea to be a terrible encumberance, it would only highlight how alone he’d become, how no one could truly reach him in their understanding. The only advantage this house had was that he was far from any prying eyes and nosy neighbours. He could stew in his solitude up here.

He turned back to the boxes and let out a frustrated sigh. He had more work than he was comfortable with at the moment and he knew when Laura saw how much he’d done she would berate him for overdoing it. Not that taking it easy would help him, not now. There was no chance for him and they both knew it, no point pretending like everything hadn’t changed. It had and now he was here, overdoing it and trying to stop the feeling of drowning that consumed his mind every minute of every day. 

He ran his hands through his hair and turned back to the window. If only there was someone out there for him, who could possibly begin to understand his pain. He felt like that wasn’t asking too much. He watched a mother and a child playing with the sand on the beach. If he was happier he would have thought it a nice picture of family contentedness. Now it only served to remind him of what he lost. Yet he could not look away. There was something about the carefree, loving movements of the woman that caught his attention. He stood there for an aberrant amount of time watching their oddly comforting activity. 

As he caught himself he turned away, disgusted. He wasn’t here to make friends or anything. He was hiding away and licking his wounds like an injured cat. He knelt down by the boxes and attacked his work, once again needing distraction. That overwhelming feeling was coming back and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to fight it off today, only beat it back from the brink of control. 

With his mind still on the woman with the child enjoying her day on the beach he finished the unpacking of his new life in the small seaside village.


	2. Of Oranges and Jammie Dodgers

A few weeks after the sunny day on the beach, Alex’s feeling of anticipation was building inside her, so much so that she had been very grumpy with those around her. She was frustrated and sleep deprived. She had subsequently started and given up on at least a dozen different paintings and she knew she hadn’t been as kind to her customers as she should have been. She could only put it down to this damn feeling.

And to make matters worse there was going to be a storm tonight, which meant she’d be up all night with Salome trying to calm her down. She was cooped up in her tiny studio listening to the rain beat against the roof in a staccato rhythm. It was only 2pm and the sky was already the colour it should be at midnight. She sighed at the turn the weather had taken and began closing up shop. No one would come through in these conditions. 

The wind roared outside her window as she locked up, rushing through her hair and pulling at her clothes. She turned around and regarded the town, noticing the lack of people on the street. She growled at the wind, knowing an umbrella would be useless and made a mad dash to the local grocery shop. She had decided, given what she would have to deal with that night, she deserved a treat. 

She shivered as she practically fell into the shop through the old wooden door. The bell above her went berserk as the wind rushed in behind her. She shut the door tightly behind her and surveyed the room before her. She appeared to be the only customer in, she noted, as she wound her way through the shelving. 

While she was hidden behind a shelf she heard the bell once again tinkled as someone new entered the shop. It was only a few minutes before she heard excited talking coming from the front counter. She didn’t recognise the voice and thought maybe a tourist had accidentally stumbled into their town on such a day. She ignored the talking and pursued the fresh fruit before her, picking out the best example there were of oranges. She slowly inspected each and chose the best looking ones before pursuing the chocolate isle. She picked up a bar of dark chocolate and made her way to the front counter to pay for her spoils. 

A young man was standing there, gesticulating very excitedly as he was explaining why the shop should carry some form of something or other. He was soaked from head to toe and was slowly forming a puddle beneath him. His hair was a nice brown colour and he was very tall and lanky. She thought he may be attractive if he turned around.

Mid excited gesture his arm accidentally knocked into her, causing the oranges to fly out of her arms and roll away. The man turned around to apologise to the poor shocked woman. She thought he may have been the most unconventionally handsome man she’d ever seen. It was as if the breath had been knocked out of her, rather than just some fruit. 

In a state of shock all she managed to say was “Oh no, my oranges.” Looking back on it she thought it wouldn’t go down in history as the best opening line. From the look on the man’s face he wasn’t expecting it either. He looked from her face to scattered fruit and began collecting them up for her, uttering a multitude of apologies. The feeling of anticipation seemed to double in her stomach and she wished to curl up on herself to try and stifle it. It raged within her, running uncontrollably without a leash. 

_______________^______________

Matt had previously been down to the general store twice since he’d moved into the house on the hill. He always waited until he’d eaten everything in the house before venturing down to the village. He wasn’t one to mingle with the locals and often heard the women gossiping about how proud he was. Every time he heard that all he could think was ‘this isn’t bloody Pride and Prejudice.’ He just didn’t feel the need to mingle with the locals. If everything went according to plan he’d be out of here in a year with a new job and a good flow of cash. 

However, the house was out of food and he cursed his luck at having to walk down to the village on a day such as this. A storm was coming and it was making him feel antsy. He stalked through the picturesque village to the old general store that proclaimed to have been open since 1857. He knew he was absolutely soaked and that he looked an absolute mess. Mud covered his shoes and the wind was causing his shirt to cling to him in an uncomfortable way. He couldn’t wait to get out of this pre-storm weather and into a warm building. 

The bell above the door in the shop went berserk as he entered, the wind deigning to follow him in. He shut the door on the cruel cold and allowed the warm air to embrace him. It was alright as far as village general stores went but he had a major problem with it. It didn’t stock Jammie Dodgers. If he was still in London this would’t be a problem, some other close by shop would have them but he didn’t have the luxury here. He considered just ordering them off the internet but felt that would be more like giving in, and plus Laura would complain that he wasn’t trying to fit in. That last bit was true but he still felt the right to have Jammie Dodgers.

He noticed the old owner behind the till messing around with something or other. He quite determinedly walked up to him and said “Why doesn’t this shop sell Jammie Dodgers?”

The man looked at him confused and asked him what he was talking about. 

“You know, the biscuits. Wonderfully tasty little things. Go very well with a cup of tea, or no cup of tea if that’s your choice. Really, they’re good at all times of the day and with anything. Except maybe broccoli. Never tried that before,” he rambled, as he gestured through the importance of the biscuit. The shop owner looked on with a bemused expression on his face.   
He continued to explain the wonder that was Jammie Dodgers to the poor shop owner when his arm came in contact with a solid form. He heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him and he began to turn to apologise to the poor person who’d come in contact with his clumsiness. 

The moment he saw the poor woman behind him he was struck by her beauty. She could have been an angel. Her hair was a mass of wild curls that formed a halo around her head under the lights of the shop. He hair was a wonderful buttery caramel that he had an almost inexplicable urge to taste. Her expressive eyes, a wonderful mix of blue and green, showed her absolute shock at the situation. 

She murmured, “Oh no, my oranges,” and he thought it may have been the most interesting first sentence anyone had ever said to him, if a little odd. He looked down at the rolling fruit on the floor and bent down to collect them for her, apologising profusely to her, his angel. Sheepishly, he handed them back to her. She accepted them, looking a little sick and he peered into her face worriedly. She looked back at him with a look of pain on her face. 

“Alex, you okay, love?” the shop owner asked the gorgeous woman. She nodded absentmindedly and handed over the oranges and a bar of chocolate. 

“I’m Matt and once again I’m sorry for my clumsiness,” he introduced, proffering his hand, needing to know who this delightful creature was. 

“Alex,” she said, taking his hand. Her skin was the softest he’d ever felt and he felt as if the touch itself had stopped his heart. Colour was returning to her cheeks and she was beginning to look more normal. 

“Can I make this up to you somehow?” he asked as he released her hand. He noticed that he felt an odd sense of comfort in her presence. It was the best he’d felt in a while. 

“No, that’s perfectly alright,” she replied, grabbing her bag of food. 

“There’s a cafe just down the road, how about a cup of coffee to say sorry?” he offered. 

“Because you haven’t said sorry enough already,” she teased, a twinkle in her eye. A radiance was beginning to come over her now and he was enraptured in her light. He blushed slightly, realising he’s been staring. 

“Just trying to make sure you don’t hate me,” he responded. She laughed a little as he made for the door.

“Maybe some other time. I have to relieve my babysitter and in case you haven’t noticed, the weather is terrible,” she remarked. 

“You have a child?” he asked, following her to the door.

“Yes, a little girl,” she replied with a small smile.

“You don’t look old enough to have children,” he commented, flabbergasted at this new information. 

“Flatter,” she joked, pushing open the door to leave. “I really have to go now.”

He followed her out into the street and watched her dart through the rain. He stood there as the rain soaked through to his skin, simply enchanted at the creature he’d met. Without thinking much about it he turned and entered the general store again to pick up his much needed groceries. His mind was so caught up with his angel that he found himself home once more, not sure what he’d bought for the week.


	3. That Was Abrupt

It was about a month later when Matt finally ran into Alex again. He was going through an odd need to design and felt the yearning to liven up his house. He’d already painted every wall and moved all available furniture and was still going stir crazy. He needed movement in his life, stagnation was not his friend. So that morning he set of down to the village, having remembered there was a small art gallery in town. 

When he entered the small wooden structure the bell above the door tinkled. He looked at it for a moment, glaring almost, before turning to look at the empty shop. Not a single person was about. His footsteps creaked the floorboards underfoot and he peered at a painting of what he thought was an orange. Just seeing it made him think back to the day he first laid eyes on his angel, his Alex. Not that she really was his but he’d work hard to make sure she was. She really was all he wanted these days. He was sure that this wasn’t what Laura meant when she told him to figure out what he wanted but it was the truth.

He found himself unable to do anything other than think about her. The way her beautiful eyes sparkled, the way her skin felt against his, the way her hair was absolutely fabulously mad. Her very presence captivated him and he was able to pull himself from her spell. He kept finding himself unknowingly spending hours thinking about her; what she was like, what her favourite food was, what her daughter was like. It was driving him mad and yet he couldn’t stop. 

“Can I help you?” a familiar voice said, breaking his thought. He turned around to find his angel standing before him. Before now, he was sure he had only imagined her beauty but this was like getting punched in the stomach all over again. It had taken him an age to find her. Although he’d never admit it, he’d been down into the village more frequently just to catch sight of her again. Sadly, nothing had come from it and he’d begun to think maybe he’d made her up in his sadness induced phase to please himself. But here she was, flesh and blood, and still breathtakingly beautiful.

“Hi,” he breathed, unable to form any thought except for that.

“Oh, hi,” she replied, smiling slightly. He was more than entranced now. “Was there something I could help you with?” she asked.

“You owe me a coffee date,” he blurted out before blushing. She giggled which caused what he was sure was a goofy smile to pass over his face. 

“I suppose I do,” she replied. “Let me close up shop and we can go do it now,” she suggested. 

“I don’t want to be a bother,” he called after her as she grabbed her coat from the back room. 

“It’s a slow day, I doubt anyone will notice,” she replied, reentering the room. 

She led the way out the door and up the street. Matt couldn’t help stare at her as he followed. Her hair really was magic and the sway of her hips were the most erotic he’d ever seen. He was in far too deep for such a short amount of time. He was completely under this woman’s spell and he was not sure he’d change it for anything. 

__________^__________

Alex would forever say how shocked she was to find Matt in her gallery that day. When she’d first laid eyes on him she was sure he was from out of town, a tourist simply passing through that had got caught in a terrible storm. But here he was again. And just seeing him reminded her of the overwhelming feeling she’d felt that first time. He was just so… so… electrifying. She wondered how so much energy could be contained in such a gangly body. 

She’d in no way expected him to ever visit her gallery. He hadn’t seemed the art type but he’d been standing there, as if he were some kind of ghost, here to haunt her for all eternity. He’d been staring very intently at the painting of the oranges she’d bought that day they’d met and she wondered if he even remembered, if she’d made even the slightest impression on him. 

Over the past month she’d been thinking of him far too much for her liking. At every turn he’d been on her mind and it was beginning to drive her crazy. The feeling of anticipation had dissipated and in it’s place the image of Matt had been left. She’d been agitated, hoping he’d roll back into town and now here he was. 

And now in a strange turn of events she was leading him to the little cafe in town after agreeing to his coffee date. She knew this was ridiculous and if she wasn’t careful she’d be sucked too far in. He was so much younger than she was and in a few days he’d be gone for good, never to be heard from or seen again. This whole thing was preposterous and completely unlike her that the whole walk she was berating herself for agreeing. It didn’t help that he was following behind her like a loyal puppy dog. 

The cafe was just as she remembered it and it caused a stone to settle in the bottom of her stomach. Matt followed her in and made straight for the back conner, the same place that… But no, this was different, her heart wouldn’t be invested this time around. It was just a simple one off. 

She sat in the offered chair and waited for the waiter to come take their orders. Her, having been a regular, knew exactly what she wanted but Matt umed and ahed over the menu for a few minutes before settling on a tradition pot of tea. She smiled at him awkwardly as they waited for their drinks to arrive. She felt uncomfortable with the silence, it felt too familiar, too intimate. Matt seemed to notice her awkwardness and began conversation. 

“So, what’s up with the oranges?” he asked. She started at the sound of his voice, unsure of what he meant. He continued, “You were buying them the day we met and you have paintings up in your gallery of them. I’m just curious.” 

She heisted for a moment. “They’re my favourite food,” she settled on. He smiled encouragingly at her and she began to relax once again. Their drinks arrived in this new, more comfortable silence. 

After taking a sip of her latte she asked, “So how long are you in town for?”

“I’m planning about a year but it may be a little longer,” he replied easily, pouring himself a cup of tea. She sat in a stunned silence staring at him. How could he be more than just a tourist, a traveller? He was planning on living here and the fluttering of happiness she felt made her tense up. She was already in too deep. How stupid could she get?

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, reaching his hand across the table to take her hand. She flinched back and a hurt look crossed over his face before he hid it behind a mask of cool indifference. 

“Sorry, I just didn’t realise you were staying so long,” she replied. 

“I thought it would have been obvious after I bought the house on the hill,” he explained, showing his innocence of the situation. 

“You’re the mystery buyer, the surly one?” she asked, unsure that she could feel more shocked than she already did. 

He ran his hand through his hair and shrugged. “I guess I am,” he replied. She stared at him for a moment longer before standing up. From the look on his face it was rather abrupt.

“I need to go collect my daughter from the sitter,” she said in way of explanation. Hesitantly he stood up too, reaching out a hand again. This time it made contact with her arm and a spark shot straight to her heart.

“It’s only one, your gallery is open until four, surely you can stay a little longer?” he queried , giving her puppy dog eyes. She sighed and sat down, knowing this would become a recurring theme should they form a friendship. She smiled radiantly and sat again, taking up his cup of tea. 

“So tell me about yourself. You have a daughter?” he prompted. 

“Yes, her name’s Salome and she’s four,” she replied, still unsure of her place here in this cafe with this man. 

“Can I meet her?” he asked innocently enough but she reeled back. If she let this man meet her daughter then he would be setting down roots in her life and she’d never be able to get rid of him. Or worse, he’d leave them, hurting her daughter in the process. 

“No,” she replied, perhaps a tad too harshly. The look of hurt that passed over her face made her feel guilty but she pushed it down. “Now if you don’t mind I should go. I still have a business to run.” 

And with that she stood from the table and marched out of the cafe, leaving behind a hurt and confused man. As she walked away a lone tear slid down her face for reasons she couldn’t even begin to explain to herself.


End file.
